CHAPTER XII.
THE ARROW
Slowly, silently, two canoes glided along the still, dark water of agloomy creek over-arched by the interlaced limbs of lofty trees.
The first, propelled by the slow-dipping blades of two Brazilianbushmen, seemed to be seeking something; for it nosed along withfrequent pauses of the paddles, during which it drifted almost to a stopwhile its crew searched the solemn jungle depths reaching away from theright-hand shore. The second, carrying three bronzed and bearded men ofanother continent, was only trailing the leader. It moved and pausedlike the first, but the recurrent scrutiny of the farther gloom by itspaddlers was that of men who saw only a meaningless, monotonous bulk ofbuttresses and trunks and tangle of looping lianas. In this dimness andbewildering chaos the trio might as well have been blind. The eyes ofthe tiny fleet were in the first boat.
The progress of the dugouts was almost stealthy. Not a paddle thumped orsplashed, not a voice spoke. They moved with the alert caution born notof fear, but of wary readiness for any sudden event--like prowlingjungle creatures which, themselves seeking quarry, must be ever on guardlest they become the hunted instead of the hunters.
For the past two days they had moved thus. The last fresh meat had beenshot miles down the river, where a well-placed bullet from the rifle ofMcKay had downed a fat swamp deer. Since that day not a gun had beenfired. The rations now were tough jerked beef and monkey meat, slabs ofsalt pirarucu fish, and farinha, varied by tinned delicacies from thestores of the Americans. Henceforth gunfire was taboo unless it shouldbecome necessary in self-defense.
At length the fore canoe halted with an abruptness that told of backstrokes of the blades hidden under water. McKay, bowman of the trailingcraft, also backed water, while his mates held their paddles rigid. Thetwo boats drifted together.
"This is the place," Lourenco said, speaking low.
The Americans, scanning the shore, saw nothing to differentiate the spotfrom the rest of the wilderness growth. Yet Lourenco's tone was sure.Pedro's face also showed recognition of his surroundings. With noapparent motion of the paddles--though the wrists of the paddlers movedalmost imperceptibly--the canoe of the bushmen floated to the bank. Theypicked up their rifles, twitched their bow up on land, and turned theirfaces to the forest.
"Stay here," was Pedro's subdued command, "until you hear the bird-callwhich we taught you down the river."
He and Lourenco faded into the dimness and were gone.
"Beats me how them guys find their way 'round," muttered Tim. "I couldland here twenty times hand-runnin', but if I went away and then comeback I'd never know the place."
"It's all in the feel of it," was McKay's low-toned explanation. "Theyfind places and travel the bush as an Indian does--by a sixth sense.Take them to New York City, guide them around, then turn them loose--andthey'd be hopelessly lost in ten minutes."
The others nodded agreement and sat watching. In the shadows no creaturemoved. Afar off some bird cried mournfully like a lost soul condemned towander forever alone in the grim green solitudes. No other sound came tothe listeners save the ever-present hum of the big forest mosquitoes, towhich they now had become indifferent. For all they could see or hear oftheir two guides, they might as well have been alone. Yet they knew theBrazilians were not far away, threading the maze with sure step andscouting hawk-eyed for any sign of danger.
At length a long soft whistle sounded in the bush ahead. Any Indianhunter hearing that sound would straightway have begun scanning the highbranches, for the liquid call was that of the mutum, or curassow turkey.But the waiting trio knew it for Pedro's signal that all was clear. Atonce they slid their canoe to shore, lifted its bow to a firm grip onthe clay, and, after plumbing the shadows, quietly advanced in squadcolumn.
A few steps, and they halted suddenly and whirled. A voice had spokenjust behind them. There, squatting leisurely between the root buttressesof a huge tree, Lourenco looked up at them in amusement. They had passedwithin rifle length of him without seeing him.
"Of what use are your eyes, comrades?" he chaffed. "In the bush oneshould see in all directions at once. You were looking at that patch ofsunlight just ahead, yes? But danger lurks in the shadows, not in theglaring light."
Without awaiting an answer, he arose and took the lead. At the edge ofthe small sunlit space beyond he halted.
"You were heading for the right place," he added then. "Look around. Doyou see anything?"
Swiftly they scrutinized the gap left by the fall of a great tree whosegigantic trunk had bludgeoned weaker trees away in its crushing descent.Seeing nothing unusual, they then peered around them. Tim suddenlysnapped up his rifle.
"Holler tree there--and a man in it! Hey! come out o' there!"
"Your eyes improve," Lourenco complimented. "But the man is Pedro."
Tim lowered the gun as Pedro, grinning, came out of his concealment.
"That is the tree of the Raposa," Lourenco went on. "The lightningflashing in from above showed us the man. But now, senhores, I think wemust tramp the bush for some time before we find that Raposa again.There is no trace of him here."
"Hm!" said Knowlton. Striding to the hollow tree, he peered about insideit. The cavity was almost big enough to sling a hammock in, but it wasempty of any indication of habitation, human or otherwise. A temporaryrefuge--that was all.
"No sign anywhere around here, eh?" queried McKay.
"We have found none. We shall look farther, but I have small hope. Ifyou senhores will make the camp this time we shall start at once andstay out until dark. Build no fire until we return. And if you hear thecall of the mutum, pay no attention to it; we may use it to locate eachother if we separate, and also perhaps as a decoy. Any wild man, red orwhite, hearing that call would seek the bird making it, for a fine fatmutum is well worth killing. Keep quiet and be on guard."
"Right. Go ahead."
The bushmen turned at once and stole away. The others returned to thecanoes, transported the necessary duffle to the base of the hollow tree,made camp with a few poles, and squatted against the trunk to smoke,watch, and wait. Several times they heard mutum calls receding in thedistance. Then came silence.
The sun-thrown shadows in the gap crawled steadily eastward. Knowltontested the feed of his automatic, which, since its balkiness in thefight with the Peruvians, he had kept carefully oiled and free from theslightest speck of rust. Tim arose at intervals and paced up and down insentry go, eyes and ears alert--a useless activity, but one whichprovided an outlet for his restless energy. McKay let his gaze rove overthe small area visible from their post, studying the contours of thetowering trunks, the prone giant whose fall had opened the hole in theleafy roof, the parasitical vines twined about other trees, the thin,outflung buttresses supporting the mighty columns--all familiar sightsto him, but the only things to occupy his vision. So limned on his braindid the scene become that after a time he could close his eyes and seeit in every important detail.
It might have been two hours after Pedro and Lourenco had departed--theshadows had grown much longer--when over McKay stole the feeling that hewas being watched. He glanced at his companions and found that neitherof them was looking at him. Knowlton, sitting with hands clasped aroundupdrawn knees, was dozing. Tim, though wide awake, was staring absentlyat a fungus. The captain's eyes searched the short vistas all about,spying nothing new. Still the feeling persisted. Then all at once hisroaming gaze stopped, became fixed on a point some forty feet away.
There rose a rough-barked red-brown tree, and from it, near the ground,projected a blackish bole. McKay was very sure the protuberance had notbeen there before. He had stared steadily at that tree more than once,and its shape was quite clear in his mind. Was that bump an insensatewood growth now revealed for the first time by the changing sun slant,or--
For minutes he watched it. It did not move. Then Tim, restless again,rose directly in McKay's line of sight, yawned silently, swung his gunto his shoulder, and began another slow parade of his self
-appointedpost. When he had stepped aside McKay looked again for the puzzlingbole.
It was gone.
With a bound the captain was up and dashing toward the tree, drawing hispistol as he ran. But within three strides he went down. A tough vine,unnoticed on the ground, looped snakily around one ankle and threw himhard. His gun flew from his hand. As he fell a tiny whispering soundflitted past, followed by a small blow somewhere behind him. Ensued agruff grunt from Tim and the swift clatter of a breech bolt.
Raging, McKay kicked his foot loose and heaved himself up. Empty handed,he continued his rush for the tree. But when he reached it he foundnothing behind it. If anything had been there it now was gone, and thevacant shadows beyond were as inscrutable as ever.
Feet padded behind him and Tim and Knowlton halted on either side. Amoment of silent searching, and Tim broke into reproach.
"Cap, don't never do that again! If ye take a tumble in my line o' fire,for the love o' Mike stay down till I shoot! I come so near drillin' yewhen ye hopped up that I'm sweatin' blood right now."
In truth, the veteran was pale around the mouth and his broad face wasbeaded with cold drops.
"I seen more 'n one time in France when I felt like shootin' my s'periorofficer, but I never come so near doin' it as jest now. I had finger totrigger and had took up the slack, and a hair's weight more pull wouldhave spattered yer head all around. And besides givin' me heart failureye let that guy git away. We'll never find him--"
"You saw him?" McKay cut in.
"I seen somethin' beyond ye--couldn't make out what 'twas, but from theway ye was goin' over the top I knowed it must be a man. And then whenthe arrer come--"
"Arrow?"
"Sure. Missed ye when ye took that flop, and stuck in the tree overyonder. What'd ye rush the guy for, anyways? Whyn't ye drill him fromwhere ye was?"
In the reaction from his sudden fright Tim was as wrathfully ready to"bawl out" his captain as if he were some raw rookie. McKay, with a coolsmile, explained his abrupt action, meanwhile reconnoitering the dimnessfor any further sign of the vanished assailant. None showed.
While Tim stood vigilant guard the other two stooped and moved aroundthe base of the tree, narrowly examining the ground. Beyond it theypaused at one spot, fingered the soil lightly, and lit a match or two.
"No ghost," said Knowlton. "Barefoot man. Didn't leave much trace, butenough to show he was here. Let's look at that arrow."
Back to the hollow tree they went, retrieving McKay's pistol on the way.About a yard above the earth a long shaft projected from the bark.Knowlton reached for it, but McKay held him back and drew it out.
"M-hm! Thought so!" he muttered. "Poisoned."
"Oof! Nice, gentle sort of a cuss," rumbled Tim. "That smear on thepoint--is that poison?"
"Poison. Quickest and deadliest kind of poison. Mixes instantly withblood. Paralysis--convulsions--death. The least scratch and you're gone.Wicked head on this thing, too: looks like a piece of serrated bone. Seeall those little barbs along the edges? War arrow, all right."
"Meanin' that we'll be jumped pretty soon by more Injuns. If that guy'son the warpath he ain't alone."
"Wouldn't be a bad idea to take cover," nodded McKay. Turning thefive-foot shaft downward, he plunged its head into the soft ground andleft it sticking there, harmless.
"Tim, go down and guard the canoes. Merry, lie in between these rootsand keep watch off that way. I'll go over to that tree where the spyhid."
For another hour the camp was silent. Each in his covert, finger ontrigger, the trio watched with ceaseless vigilance, expecting eachinstant to detect dusky forms crawling up from tree to tree. Yet nothingof the sort came. Nor did any hostile sound reach them. Somewhereparrots squawked, somewhere else the puppylike yapping of toucansdisturbed the solitude; nothing else.
The wan light faded. The sun crawled up the trees, leaving all theground in shadow. Then, not far off, sounded the soft whistle of themutum. Suspicious, the watchers held their places until, with anotherwhistle, Pedro came into view, followed by Lourenco.
McKay arose, met them, and briefly explained the situation. They nodded,but seemed undisturbed.
"We can start a fire now, Capitao," Lourenco said. "Night comes and weare hungry. There will be no danger before another dawn."
With which he leaned his rifle against a tree and started immediatepreparations for a meal. Pedro continued on to the canoes, made surethey were drawn up high enough to remain in place in case of any suddenrain, and returned with Tim. Around them now resounded the swiftlyrising roar of the nightly outbreak of animal life. The sun vanished. Atonce blackness whelmed all except the little fire.
"See anything while you were out?" asked McKay.
"We found no trace of the Raposa," Lourenco evaded.
"What do you plan to do now?"
"Eat--smoke--talk--sleep."
McKay eyed the bushman keenly, feeling that he was holding somethingback. But, feeling also that this pair knew what they were about, hebided his time. When all had eaten and tobacco smoke was blending withthat of the burning wood, Lourenco drew the arrow from the ground andstudied it. Then he passed it to Pedro, who, after a criticalexamination, held it in the blaze until the deadly head was burned away.
"A big-game arrow of the cannibal Mayorunas," said Lourenco. "The point,with its sawtooth barbs, is made from the tail bone of the araya, theflat devilfish of the swamp lakes. That fish, as you perhaps know, has awhiplike tail armed with that bone; and if he strikes the bone into yourflesh it breaks off and stays in the wound, and you are likely to die."
"But in that case death comes from gangrene," McKay remarked. "Thispoint has been dipped in wurali poison."
"You have seen such arrows before, Capitao?"
"Seen the poison before, yes. Over in British Guiana. The Macusi Indiansmake it from the wurali vine, some bitter root or other, a couple ofbulbous plants, two kinds of ants--one big and black with a venomousbite, the other small and red--a lot of pepper, and the pounded fangs oflabarri and couanacouchi snakes. They boil all this stuff down to athick syrup, and that's the poison. The man who makes it is sick fordays afterward."
"Our cannibals make that poison in much the same way. Yet Guiana is manyhundreds of miles from here, and our Indians know nothing of thoseMacusi people. Queer, is it not, that the same plan should be used bysavages thousands of miles apart?"
"Rather odd. Must have started from some common source hundreds of yearsago and spread around. Queerest thing is, though, that a poison sodeadly doesn't spoil meat for eating."
"Huh?" exclaimed Tim. "Mean to say them cannibals can kill us byscratchin' us with a poison arrer and then stummick us afterwards?"
"Exactly. You'd taste just as sweet as ever, Tim--maybe more so. Cheerup! They say it doesn't hurt much to die that way; you're paralyzed soquick you just sort of fade out."
Tim shook his head, his abhorrence of poison strong as ever. Knowltonspoke.
"I've heard that this wurali poison is much overrated, that it will killonly birds and monkeys, not men."
"_Por Deus!_ Whoever said that was a fool trying to appear wise!" Pedrosnorted. "We have seen the poison death, and we know."
McKay also shook his head.
"Experiments have been made with the wurali of the Macusis," he stated."It was tried on a hog, a sloth--and a sloth is mighty hard tokill--also on mules, and on a full-grown ox weighing almost half a ton.It killed every one of them."
A momentary silence followed. Tim gazed sourly at the arrow, nowharmless but still sinister.
"Urrrgh!" he growled. "Cap, ye had a narrer squeak--come near gittin' itfrom in front, and behind, too. Wisht I could have drilled that guy."
The bushmen grinned. And Lourenco's next speech was amazing.
"Be thankful you did not. That bullet might have killed us all."
After enjoying their puzzled expressions a moment he continued.
"We are nearer to a Mayoruna _maloca_ than I thought. Not the one Iintended
to seek, but a smaller one. It is about three days' journeyfrom here, and to reach it we must go through the bush. The man who leftthis arrow here to-day is from that _maloca_.
"A week ago his brother went hunting, and he has not returned. So thisyoung savage and three of his comrades now are searching the bush forsome sign of him. To-day they separated, each going in a differentdirection, agreeing to meet again to-night at a place less than half aday's journey from here. This man circled around and worked along thiscreek, knowing his brother would hardly go beyond the water. He spiedour canoes, then sought the men who had come in them and found you.
"He watched you for some time, and if you had not rushed at him he wouldhave slipped away without attacking you, for he was alone and he sawyour guns. But when you, Capitao, suddenly leaped at him he darted away,then stopped long enough to send an arrow at you. After that he dodgedout of sight and ran to the camp of his three friends. He is there now,telling about you."
"Great guns! You chaps are wizards!" cried Knowlton. "How do you knowall this?"
"Because we met him while on our way back here. He was running hard, andwe heard him, so we blocked him. After we convinced him that we werefriendly we talked for some time--I can speak their tongue--and he toldus about you. He was sure you were enemies to him and his people, andbelieved also you had killed his missing brother, and he was going firstto rejoin his companions and then hasten to the _maloca_ to bring alltheir fighters against you. It was well that we met him in time. It waswell, too, that you did not shoot him--or even shoot at him. Hiscompanions would have learned of it, and then--death for us all."
"And now what?"
"Now, comrades, we all go to the _maloca_ of that man. We meet him andthe other three to-morrow at the place where we talked to him to-day. Itold him we were going to visit that other chief whom I knew, and,though he was at first suspicious of a trap, he finally agreed to leadus to his own chief. So in the morning we march. Now let us sleep."
Knowlton and McKay glanced at each other and nodded.
"Luck's with us so far," said the captain.
"Right. We just march right into Jungle Town with bodyguard andeverything. Pretty soft! Wonder if they'll turn out the tomtom band todrum us in."
Tim said nothing. He squinted again at the headless arrow, theninspected the breech bolt of his rifle.